Prey

This is the prologue of my forthcoming erotic horror novel, Promethean. I hope you enjoy it…

He crouched in the dense undergrowth, hidden from prying eyes, watching… waiting… hunting.
His acute hearing picked up the sound of a group of revellers out for the night, his sensitive nose twitching as the smell of beer and sweat and stale urine washed over him.
Men…
Disgusting…
He growled deep in his throat as they passed, the guttural sound lost in their shouts and cries of drunken bravado.
His mind filled with images of screaming and torn bodies; he shook his head to clear them and let the men go.
He waited…
Waited…
His ears pricked as a new sound came. Another group… Their voices higher, lighter…
A long thread of drool distended from his vicious maw, pooling between his claws…
Women!
Tonight he would feed.
A playful breeze lifted their short skirts, gently caressing and cooling their secrets, bearing the scent of virgin ambrosia to him upon its back.
A red mist descend over his eyes and he had an instant erection, his whole body shuddering in anticipation.
Tonight he would mate…
As they drew level to his lair he burst forth in a whirlwind of slashing claws and rending fangs, their screams of terror mixing with his deafening roar. Hot blood splashed over him and filled his mouth with its delicious coppery taste, while youthful bones cracked and splintered between his crushing teeth.
One girl stood rooted to the ground in abject horror, her mouth open in a silent wail of insanity. He wrapped his sinuous tail around her waist to keep her from running as he gorged himself upon the flesh of her friends.
The bloodlust was upon him as he ripped his prey apart, swallowing whole limbs that still spasmed in their death throes.
Finally he stopped and stood amidst his carnage, the sudden silence broken only by his panting and the soft whimpering of the traumatised girl.
He turned his head slowly and regarded her with baleful eyes, his lips curling back in a dreadful parody of a smile. The sharp tang of urine filled his nostrils as she wet herself and he licked his lips while he lifted her bodily from the ground.
As he brought her around in front of him, she saw his huge erection jutting out obscenely from his groin, a trickle of fluid emerging from the top and running down the thick, gnarled length.
In that moment she realised his intent, realised that her dead friends were the lucky ones…
She gave voice to a terrified howl of utter despair that shattered the stillness of the night.
He held her aloft with his tail, using his claws to rip the clothes from her writhing body. Her head thrashed from side to side in wild negation as he gripped her ankles and spread her long legs wide. She struggled and screeched as he brought her virginity closer and closer to the head of his awful cudgel, her cries ceasing abruptly when she passed out from fear and pain as he impaled her mercilessly upon it…
He grunted and growled as he moved her limp form up and down, ripping and tearing her insides with the force of his desire until he threw his head back with a mighty roar and flooded her with his seed.
He lay her ravaged body tenderly upon the soft grass, lovingly smoothing her hair back from her bloodied face.
She was beautiful.
Their child would grow to be big and strong like its father, good looking like its mother…
He licked across her mouth and then drew a sharp claw down her body from neck to pubis, marking her as his.
He snuffled between her legs, gave a satisfied grunt and bounded away into the darkness…

Hugo sat with his pretty young wife as they had breakfast and watched the news on the kitchen television.
The solemn looking reporter was relaying the top story of the day about a group of teenage girls, over in the next county, that had been attacked on their way home from a pub.
Sheila tut-tutted and shook her head at the awful commentary…
“… and as yet the police have no leads in this terrible tragedy which has four girls missing and one survivor in critical condition. Police are waiting to interview her when or indeed if, she regains consciousness. This is…”
Sheila switched the tele off with a sad sigh and turned to look at her wonderful husband. She thought he looked a little tired this morning and reached over to gently take his hand.
“Oh Hugo… Such a dreadful thing to happen… That poor girl. Who could do such a terrible thing? I hope they catch them soon… It’s not safe to go out these days… I’m afraid to go into town…”
Hugo stood and placed his hand lovingly on his very pregnant wife’s belly, kissing her tenderly on the forehead as he prepared to leave for work. He looked down at her, such a pretty girl, his eyes dropping lower so that he could just see the start of the thin, vivid scar that disappeared between her ripe breasts and ran down her body.
She gazed up at him, so handsome in his clericals and felt a surge of pride at being the vicar’s wife.
The thing that lived behind his eyes and wore his face, smiled at her charming innocence.
“I’ll pray for them. Now, don’t give it another thought my darling, you’re perfectly safe with me. I’ll protect you…”

© Steve Richards 2015

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Pending Release

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She knows what she possesses and dresses to impress.
Yet she is afraid… afraid of the passions she excites in others…

In men.

Dirty, disgusting men whose only thoughts are centred on abusing her and taking their pleasure in the use of her.

She can feel their lust for her as she walks, hear their depraved minds salivating over her. She can feel their calloused hands mauling her soft body, pawing at her tender breasts, roughly parting her thighs.

She knows exactly what they want to do to her with their swollen flesh, those thick, hard, unyielding rods that they want to push inside her. They want to tear her apart, fill every hole with their filthy outpourings.

They want to sullie her – everywhere…

Every last one of them…

It’s all they ever want.

She can see it in their eyes, a pale unhealthy gleam. She knows that light well.

She saw it in her father’s eyes the night he came into her bedroom all those years ago… the night he hurt her. She saw it again in her uncle’s eyes when he visited her too. She even saw it in her brother’s eyes when he came as well, to show her how much he loved her.

Love!

Love they called it!

Night after night of love, again and again until she lost count!

Love…

What do they know of love? What does any man…?

She’d finally returned their love the night she crept into their bedrooms, one by one, climbing into their beds and mounting them as she’d been taught.
“I love you baby…” they’d moaned as she rode them to completion, their sighs turning to screams as she put out their eyes – extinguishing that terrible light with a carving knife.

She silenced them forever by driving the blade up through their jaws to trap their lying tongues and then used it to slice off their invading flesh.

She still had their shrunken members, threaded on a string that she wore around her neck, the withered husks rubbing against her breasts.

A constant reminder of their love…

She turned and entered a dark alleyway, the sound of heavy footsteps following her, as she knew they would.

As they always did.

Her fear peaked and she was once again that little girl, afraid in the dark, not ready yet to become a woman. Her hand closed around the handle of the knife in her bag and the fear fled, replaced by a serene calm.

She stopped, allowing the footsteps to come closer until they halted right behind her.

They think she’s weak, pliant, something to be used and discarded.

Powerless.

But she’s not. She has strength. She has power! The thing that they obsses over between her legs gives her that power!

Power over them…

She felt his hands encircle her small waist, his fingers trembling in their eagerness to claim his prize.

She turned to face him with a beatific smile, her eyes bright with excitement as she gently draped one hand around his neck.

“I’m ready now, father…”

©Steve Richards 2014
Picture sourced from Pinterest